


The Curtain

by badbastion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Collaboration, M/M, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 13:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3328661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbastion/pseuds/badbastion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How to kill time when a day on the job comes up bupkis?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curtain

**Author's Note:**

> This is an RP collaboration with the lovely [adelheide](adelheide.livejournal.com/), who doesn't have an account here :)

Richard Emmerson Bascomb III was not a happy man. During a charity auction, a rare Babylonian vase had gone missing. When that happened, several other items were damaged, “like a small bomb went off” he explained. The auction had to be postponed due to the damage. As there was no evidence of any kind of explosive device on the scene, the insurance company wasn’t willing to pay for damages.

Said vase was of interest to the Winchesters. They’d received a tip that the vase was actually home to a genie. A real, wish-granting genie. Unfortunately, genies were related to djinn, only nastier. Sam did some research and found that over the years, the vase spent most of its time locked away in the archives of various museums and universities. Whenever the vase was brought out of storage for an exhibit, bad events followed. The vase would be sold to a private dealer but every person who owned the vase had suffered everything from extraordinary bad luck to complete catastrophe. This time, the vase was donated by a business acquaintance of Bascomb who promptly left the country.

So much for questioning him.

Sam and Dean arrived at Bascomb’s estate on a bright morning. They flashed their FBI badges and were grudgingly admitted by a dour butler. Bascomb himself was no happier to see them, trying to keep the problem with the missing vase “discreet”. When the brothers assured him of the utmost discretion, he was willing to talk. No witnesses. At least none that were willing to admit it. There had been an odd loud noise and after, some of the guests seem afraid. Sam asked for a list of these possible witnesses and Bascomb bristled. He wasn’t in the habit of disclosing the names of guests to his auctions. Dean got the Official Look and informed Bascomb that he could be arrested for impeding an investigation. Bascomb decided to compromise.

Another auction was planned for the weekend. The same people who were at the first one would be at this one. Bascomb was willing to make discreet introductions so the Sam and Dean could question them. The auction was being held at the local country club. When they pulled up to the valet, the teenager’s eyes lit up at the sight of the Impala. Dean handed him the keys and gravely intoned, “This is my baby. Scratch her and I’ll do worse to you.” Pale, the teen nodded and carefully got into the car. Inside, classical music came from a quartet in the main ballroom. Chandeliers dripped crystal. Wait staff is bright white jackets expertly maneuvered amongst the extremely well-dressed patrons, offering champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

Dean tried to snag a flute but Sam reminded him they were supposed to be “on duty”. Dean made a face and snatched as many nibbles as he could from passing silver trays. Bascomb quietly introduced them to the possible witnesses, always hovering in case a guest became upset by the questioning. After an hour, the most they learned was that the witnesses has seen a blur or a shadow right before a feeling of dread overcame them. Then the was the loud noise, a rush of wind, and an unsettled feeling. Which told them nothing.

Sam pulled Dean to a wall for a conference. “So, what do you think? The genie decided to go independent?”

Dean popped something with ham and cheese into his mouth. “Maybe. I mean, we know about djinns but not about genies. But if this vase is the home of a genie, it’s stuck close to home for centuries. Why this now?”

Sam nodded, his big brain clearly working. “So, maybe the genie happened upon a spell that would let it break free. Or, someone decided to take the genie and use it.”

Both good and equally valid theories. But Dean was getting bored with the glitz and glamor. There wasn’t anything else they could do tonight. Tomorrow would be research. Oh good. His favorite. However, a waiter hustled by them, pulling a waft of the cologne Sam was wearing to his nose. Damn. Dean loved that smell off Sam. In his pants, his dick twitched with interest. Yeah, that really was a favorite of his.

Dean had a general disdain for the super rich. They went about their lives of privilege, insulated from real trouble. When faced with something supernatural, they fell apart and needed grunts like him and Sam to bail them out. He always wanted a way to poke them in the eye for that. And a wicked idea floated into his mind. He tugged on Sam’s sleeve, code for Bend down, you huge sasquatch, so I can tell you something quietly. Sam leaned in and Dean exhaled hotly over his ear. “This place is a bust, Sammy. Wanna fuck?”

Sam felt his face go hot. It was just like Dean to distract him in the middle of work with his insatiable, deliciously crude demands.

He glanced at Dean, trim and terribly handsome in his tuxedo with his hair styled smoothly, none of the usual bristles. Yes, he thought, but “You know we’re on a job, Dean,” he argued, fighting the languid stirring of lust spreading through his body.

Dean waggled his eyebrows. “We’re at a standstill tonight, brother mine. We have a long day of research tomorrow. I think we should let off some steam. You know, tackle tomorrow… refreshed.”

Sam frowned, still in job mode. Dean sidled up close, reached behind, and grabbed a handful of perky ass. He grinned when Sam jumped. Sam tried so hard to be professional while working. Dean took great delight in distracting him from that. He loved a flummoxed Sam.

Leaning closer, Dean let his voice drop in pitch and volume. “I think I really need you to give it to me, Sammy.”

Sam had a quick mental flash of peeling Dean’s pants down over his hips, spreading his asscheeks and sliding in, burying himself in one easy stroke, and he shuddered. he let out a quick puff of air, his face going even hotter, flushing with the blood that tingled all through his body, pooling in his lower belly and making his cock twitch.

“Yeah, you’re right. Not much else to do today,” Sam said, eyeing Dean from his crotch up to his face, visually devouring Dean’s full lips and long-lashed green eyes. Something about Dean talking dirty to him in this place full of fancy stuffed shirts and rich, vapid women was so incredibly hot, and the tight heat he felt in his groin made up his mind for him. He turned to speak into Dean’s ear, his voice masked by all the idle chatter in the room. “Want me to fuck you in the car?” he asked, not interested in waiting until they got back to their motel room.

Dean grinned, sly and sexy. “Uh-uh. Here.”

Sam gaped. “Here?”

“Well, not right in this spot. Although, I’m sure a lot of these Trumps could use the sight of you feeding me that monster you got. Maybe teach ‘em something new to spice up their sex lives.”

Their heads were close, almost touching. “I don’t know. Some boring people get up to all kinds of kinky stuff behind closed doors.”

Dean was already half hard. “As kinky as a guy begging for his little brother’s cock?”

“You have a point,” Sam said, leaning closer to let the tip of his nose brush against Dean’s ear. “So where do you want me to fuck you?”

“Follow me. I got an idea.”

Dean ducked out of the ballroom and headed down a long hall. On the right was a shorter hall that lead to the kitchen, where clattering and shouting could be heard. Further down the hallway were little niches. Just large enough for a small bench or a couple of chairs. Little tucked away places where the rich could neck, make sneaky business deals, or just get the Hell away from their families for a few minutes. Luxurious drapes gave the option of further privacy and each alcove was flanked on either side by a potted fern on a short column.

Dean slid into one just past the kitchen and yanked Sam in after him.

“Are you sure?” Sam fretted. “We’re pretty close to the kimmmffffmmmm.” Dean did not play fair. He was the best kisser Sam had ever known and right at that moment, his tongue was flicking the roof of his mouth while his teeth teased and tugged on Sam’s lips.

When they broke apart for air, Dean was flushed and panting, his eyes blown and sparkling by the halogen light. “Oh, I’m real sure I want you to fuck me right here, not-so-little brother.”

Sam licked his lips, cock twitching at the sight of Dean’s lust-flushed face, and he yanked one drape from it's hook and went back in, kissing Dean hard. Sam wasn’t a careful kisser; he was all force and tongue and raw lust, and he gripped the sides of Dean’s face and pushed until Dean’s back hit the wall. “As long as you’re sure,” he said, panting against Dean’s mouth.

He made quick work of Dean’s belt and the fly of his pants, and he had Dean’s cock in his hand within seconds.

“Fuck, yeah,” Dean breathed when Sam’s long fingers closed around his length. “Damn, Sammy, your hands.” Sam worked his thumb under the head and Dean fucked up into his hand. “I want you to mess me up.”

“Yeah?” Sam said. “How bad do you want it?” He jerked Dean, his hand already getting sticky-slick with precum. With his other hand, he reached around to palm Dean’s ass, then to swipe a finger up the cleft, brushing over Dean’s asshole.

“Real bad,” Dean murmured, his voice like whiskey and smoke. He reached down and gripped Sam through his black trousers. “I want you to take this and fuck me. Hard. Make me take it, Sammy. Make me take it deep.”

New heat washed through him. Dean rarely got like this, eager to bottom and bottom hard, and when it did happen, it tripped something inside Sam that made him primal. He growled and flipped Dean around, pushing him against the wall and crowding in behind him. He fished around in Dean’s pockets because he knew his brother--ah ha! Packs of lube. And Dean accused him of being a Boy Scout.

He spilled a packet of lube over his fingers, thick droplets of it spattering the rich carpet, and he circled his fingers around Dean’s rim once before shoving two in up to his last knuckles. Dean’s indrawn hiss of breath told him it was almost too much, and his bitten-off moan when Sam curled his fingers told him it was not enough. He fucked in with his fingers, crowding in a third just to be sure, because he didn’t want to go slow.

He undid his pants, palming his cock to spread lube along the length of it. He didn’t ask if Dean was ready. Just gripped him by the hip and pressed the tip of his dick against Dean’s stretched hole.

He groaned as he pushed in, all the way in one long stroke until he felt his hipbones press into Dean’s ass, until he felt Dean’s heat envelop him completely, Dean opening up for him like he was made to take Sam’s cock.

What sounded like a cart piled with dishes moved close by, just as Dean let out a loud, filthy moan. Sam clamped his hand over Dean’s mouth and held still. After a few moments, the cart wheeled away. Keeping his hand over Dean’s mouth, Sam began fucking into him at a punishing pace.

Dean groaned and clawed at the expensive wallpaper, like he was trying to find a handhold. He pushed back against Sam, each thrust forcing a huff of air from him. Sam pounded into Dean and soon, sweat trickled down his back inside his fancy tux. The dichotomy of what they were doing and where they were doing it only spurred him on, heightening his lust for his brother. Dean dropped his right hand to jerk himself in time with Sam’s thrusts, which just made it hotter.

Sam grunted and fucked him hard, slowing only to grind in deep before he resumed his rapid pace. His hips slapped Dean’s ass, loud and wet and rhythmic. When Dean moaned against his hand he thrust two fingers into Dean’s mouth.

“You gonna come for me Dean?” Sam hissed in his ear, grinding deep inside him. “Gonna come all over that thousand-dollar wallpaper?”

Dean sucked his fingers with abandon, all sloppy and wet, moan interrupted by Sam’s thrusts. God, it was filthy and dirty and so damn perfect. Sam felt himself hurtling toward orgasm when under him, Dean whined and his ass locked tight around Sam’s dick. Sam literally saw stars before his vision grayed out. He came so hard for so long it hurt. He leaned heavily against Dean, riding a wave that never seemed to end. When he came back to himself, he had Dean crushed between his body and the wall. They were both gasping for breath.

Dean gave a breathless, deep chuckle. “Love it when you fuck me stupid, Sammy,” he slurred into the elegant wall covering.

All Sam could do was sigh and bury his mouth in the curve of Dean’s neck, licking his tongue out to taste his brother’s sweat. He breathed him in, cologne and salt and sex, and nuzzled up behind his ear. The sex haze was leaving his mind; during sex he could be a downright animal, but afterwards, with Dean, he couldn’t help a little tenderness.

He reached up under Dean’s shirt to rub his belly, tickling through the hairs that grew up his lower belly then caressing his navel. Finally, he gently pulled out, wiped Dean off with his pocket-handkerchief, and carefully tucked him away.

“So good,” he murmured into Dean’s ear before taking a step back, the warmth of Dean’s body leaving his.

Dean turned but stayed up against the wall, a lazy, sexy smile drawn on his face. Sam smiled fondly and tucked Dean’s shirt back in, then did up his own pants. They still had to get outside and it probably wouldn’t help their reputations as the FBI’s finest if they shambled out looking, well, just fucked.

After more tucking and straightening, Sam stepped back more, rehooking the drape to a semblance of its former position. Dean pushed off the wall, looking sleepy and happy. Sam dared one more kiss before turning around.

“Gentlemen.”

They both froze. A short distance down the hall was another alcove with two chairs. One of them was occupied by an elegant elderly women. She stood, with the aid of a silver cane, showing her tall, thin frame. Dazzling white hair haloed her face in sweeps and curls. Her gown was understated but undeniably expensive. The large diamonds dripping from her ears had to be real.

She approached slowly, age and a bad hip hindering her otherwise regal poise. They both held their breath, torn between shock still and running away. And the half smile that tugged on her tastefully coral lips did nothing to assuage their panic. She stopped a couple of feet away and appraised them both cooly.

“I have to say, that was for more entertaining than the dreary auction.”

Sam’s face went hot and Dean actually felt his heart skip a beat or two.

“It was rather exhilarating to watch two strapping young men make the beast with two backs.”

Sam started to sweat. Panic was blooming in Dean’s chest.

“It is impolite to stare.”

“I…” Sam uttered.

“Uh…” Dean eloquently added.

The smile on her face grew a bit. “Not to worry, gentlemen. Your secret is safe with me. In fact, you were not as discreet as you hoped. I had to shoo away a cook and a waiter away from your little respite.” She leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. “Besides, I wanted to keep the entertainment all to myself.”

Sam was definitely sweating now. Dean was frantically trying to figure out why is mouth was so dry.

“I actually saw what happened at the last auction, unlike those ninnies you spoke to earlier. I believe I have some information that might help your case.” With long, graceful fingers, she plucked a small card from her clutch bag. “Be at my home tomorrow at precisely 11:30. I will be serving lunch. I expect promptness. Until tomorrow.” She handed the card to Sam and started to walk down the hall. She paused, just for a moment, to give them both a slow once-over and then, with a knowing smile, she continued on her way.

Dean watched her go then looked at Sam. Sam’s face was bright red and he gaped after the dowager. Dean snatched the card from Sam’s loose fingers. It was a very nice card, engraved and everything. It simply read E. Hampton-Cutter and an address. He looked back at Sam who was still gaping.

“You’re like catnip to the cougars, Sammy.”

“I, uh, I guess so,” Sam said, still dazed. He shook his head fractionally, then glanced at the card. “An actual lead, huh?”

“An actual lead,” Dean agreed. “Looks like fooling around on the job was worth it, after all,” he said with a grin.

Sam grinned back, taking in Dean’s still-flushed face and his tall, strong body that he’d just fucked so thoroughly. “It would have been worth it anyway,” he said.


End file.
